A Debt to be Repaid
by elzebrook
Summary: Jack is caught trying to steal something from a ship and brought to the Captain, but the Captain isn't quite who, or what, he expected. And that's only the first chapter! Story 1 of The Scarlet Swan series. Post AWE JE, M for sex.
1. Intimidation

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Captain Jack Sparrow or Elizabeth Swann (Disney does). I only play with them from time to time.

**A/N:** A few years after AWE, with spoilers. Darker than my last one, (not that that'd take much. I swear this will not descend into utter fluff at the end, like my first one) but I still think it's entertaining. Of course, my humor is often described as "twisted" or "perverse", so perhaps I'm not the best judge. This is mostly an excuse to play around with different characterizations. I find I like this Elizabeth, she's more interesting. I've no idea how long this will be. I know where it ends, it's just a matter of getting there. Rating for sex, as usual. If you cannot abide even mentions of homosexuality, you'd best leave now.

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Chapter One: Intimidation

It was starting to rain. In the fading light of an overcast sky, Jack sighed the weary sigh of a man who has suffered long and suffered much and whose life, just when he thought it could not possibly get worse, had. A fat, lukewarm drop landed on his nose and he shook his head irritably, earning a warning glare from one of his captors. Jack looked insolently back up at him. The man was huge, muscles shifting like continents under his skin when he moved. He had a star shaped pattern of scars on his back, as did some of the other men. Probably some heathen ritual. The other guard tugged on the rope that bound Jack's hands and said something unintelligible and no doubt uncomplimentary in Mandarin. The rain fell harder. Jack sighed again. Things just kept going from bad to worse. Ever since that business with Calypso and the _Dutchman_ and so on, he'd had the Devil's own luck. It wouldn't have been so bad if they'd let him keep his shirt on, but no, they'd not only stripped him of his weapons, but half his clothes also. They'd even taken his boots away, although that probably had something to do with the weaponry sewn into the lining. At first he'd assumed he would be whipped, but the knowing leers of the crew informed him he was being stripped for some other nefarious purpose. It would be just his luck to get caught trying to rob the ship of the only Asian boy-fancying captain this side of South America. Usually he regarded his face as one of his chief assets, but at the moment he'd gladly exchange it for one like Barbossa's or even old Davy Jones' attack-by-squid look. Jack shifted uncomfortably between his guards. He didn't much fancy being buggered.

Another crew member sauntered out of the captain's cabin, and walked to where Jack stood, grinning in a manner that boded no good. One of the guards asked him a question and he held up a whip as an answer. They laughed. Oh, wonderful. A sadistic boy-fancying Asian captain. Jack swallowed, looking apprehensively toward the half open door of the cabin.

"So what have you caught for me today, boys?" came a languorous, British drawl from the inside of the cabin. Jack's head jerked up. He knew that voice. _That's never…_he thought. He watched the door of the cabin as two high leather boots stepped out, followed by long legs encased in tight breeches. Jack's eyes followed the legs to a slender waist bound by a belt from which protruded an ornate pair of pistols. A sword hung from baldric that cut across her breasts, for a her it was, and a very familiar her, too. Jack followed the curve of the shoulder to her neck, where a thick gold chain snaked around and disappeared into her shirt, and her neck to her face and there met a confident and highly amused pair of honey colored eyes.

"Elizabeth," he whispered, disbelievingly.

"Well, well, well" she said, in a sardonic drawl. "Captain Jack Sparrow."

Jack cursed whichever gods had charge of his life. Any god with an ounce of mercy would've given him to the Asian.

The man holding the whip looked startled. "You know him, Lady?" His English held a faint Japanese accent, but was otherwise flawless. "We found him in the hold, and took him for a thief. If we knew he was a friend…" The man trailed off, looking anxiously at Elizabeth.

"Oh, I wouldn't call him a friend," said Elizabeth, her amused eyes never leaving Jack's face. "Don't worry, Dai, you did right to tie him up." The man relaxed a little.

"Although," continued Elizabeth, taking a step forward, "I don't think I'll be needing the whip this time." Her glance raked Jack's half naked body, and she took another step, this time to the right, the guards respectfully moving out of her way. Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, she circled around behind Jack, her boots thudding deliberately on the deck. Jack stared directly ahead of him, determined not to be—or at least show he was—intimidated. She stopped behind his back.

"It would be a pity to mar such beautiful skin, wouldn't it?" she asked, running a fingertip lightly between his shoulder blades. Jack stiffened and fought the urge to squirm. He tried to convince himself the goose bumps he felt rising were from the rain. He'd never felt more exposed in his life. Elizabeth laughed softly from behind him, and finished her circle.

"Take him to my cabin, but do not leave him alone until I come back. I'll be there shortly." The man called Dai nodded as Elizabeth walked toward the helm.

"Yes, Lady."

"Oh, and Dai?" called Elizabeth over her shoulder, turning to look back at them. Her eyes met Jack's for a moment, and she smiled, wicked and feral. "Leave the ropes on."

Dai grinned, and inclined his head. "Yes, Lady."

Jack watched Elizabeth's back as she sauntered away. Dai put a hand on his shoulder.

"If you would follow me, sir?"

_All in all_, he reflected, _I still would prefer the Asian._


	2. Egritude

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Captain Jack Sparrow or Elizabeth Swann (Disney does). I only play with them from time to time.

**A/N: **Document uploading is the devil, but I'm sure everyone here knows that by now. Sorry this took so long. This is long, rambly and mostly an excuse to make Liz as un-Disney as I possibly can, but it gets to the point eventually. It's also much angstier and sadder than I expected, but the characters ran away from me, as they usually do. I don't know how Elizabeth ended up with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and a nicotine addiction, but she clearly has them, and who are we to blame her? I am deeply indebted to my beta, **SoftStuff**, for her knowledge of historical furniture and nautical terms, among other things. A few notes: Will, as usual, is now captaining _The Flying Dutchman, _after the Brethren's Court, Elizabeth ended up being some high-ranking nabob in the piratical version of royalty, and...oh, yes.

Egritude: _n_, sorrow.

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Chapter Two: Egritude

Jack stood uncomfortably in what was clearly Elizabeth's at-sea version of a boudoir, leaning against a small table by the door. A desk stood against one wall, strewn with maps, a half-empty bottle of rum and other various and sundry objects of captaining. A carved armoire of teak stood next to it, closed and presumably locked. The ornate bedspread, heavy with golden embroidery, was flung across the bed, scattered with wanton pillows. A sofa sprawled across most of the rest of the room, a silk dressing gown thrown over the back. Save for the desk chair, all the furniture was bolted to the floor. Even the rugs were nailed down.

"Your captain isn't much one for re-arranging the furniture, is she?" asked Jack, half to himself. Dai inclined his head.

"That is correct. She becomes most upset when her things are moved." Dai's tone of voice indicated that a man meeting a "most upset" Elizabeth was likely to come out of the encounter missing parts of his anatomy. Still fragile then, was Elizabeth. It'd been over two years, and she still flew into a rage if her sanctuary got disturbed. Well, she didn't appear to put a knife to the throat of anyone who touched her anymore. That was progress, at least.

The door of the cabin swung open to admit the Captain herself, followed by a pretty Thai girl who could not have been older than nineteen. Elizabeth nodded at Dai.

"That will do." Dai inclined his head and left the room. The Thai girl set a tray containing two covered dishes and glasses on the desk. She looked at Elizabeth, awaiting further instructions.

"Thank you, Phailin," said Elizabeth. Phailin said something too soft for Jack to catch, but Elizabeth laughed. She ran a finger down the girl's jaw, a gesture of affection, and possession. "I will call if we need anything."

Phailin nodded once and left, closing the doors behind her.

Elizabeth walked over to the desk and poured herself a glass of rum. She sat down in the chair, kicked off her boots and swung her long legs up onto the corner of her desk. Jack watched her with a combination of amusement and jealousy. He recognized that gesture. Hell, he'd practically invented that gesture, and she still did it better than him.

Elizabeth lit a cigarette, took a long drag on her cigarette and exhaled slowly, eyes closed. When she opened them again, she was no longer sauntering, sardonic Captain Swann, but simply Elizabeth, tired, the smallest bit vulnerable, and infinitely more dangerous. She blew out another cloud of smoke and examined Jack from half-lidded eyes, a glint of amusement still present in the dark golden depths. Her silent gaze was disconcerting. Jack shifted uncomfortably.

"I didn't know you took up smoking," he said, finally.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Jack." He raised an eyebrow at her. She shrugged.

"It's something for my hands to do. And a lot less wear and tear on the woodwork than my previous habit," she said, referring to her old inclination to throw knives at walls.

Jack nodded. Silence reigned for a moment.

"I wouldn't have taken you for the type of girl who needs a lady's maid," he said, indicating the direction of Phailin's exit. Elizabeth shrugged again.

"I found her in a brothel in Singapore and took a fancy to her." Jack suppressed a reminiscent shiver, knowing full well what it was like for Elizabeth to take a fancy to a person. Elizabeth didn't seem to notice.

"I think she's happier here than there," she continued. "She gets to choose her bedfellows now, at least. The men know that if they touch her without her will, death would be a welcome guest by the end. And if she ever wants to leave, she knows all she has to do is say, and I'll set her up with whatever she wants. I am a kinder master than most, I think. So, Jack, what were you doing in my hold?"

The swift change of subject took Jack by surprise, but only for a moment.

"Stealing," he said, hoping to disarm her with honesty. It didn't work.

"Aye, I know that," she said. "After anything in particular, or just perusing the selection?"

He shrugged as best he could with his arms tied behind him.

"Perusing," he said.

"That's odd," she said, her free hand fiddling with her collar, her eyes never leaving his face. "I would've thought you'd be after this."

She pulled on the chain around her neck and a heavy pendant fell forth from her open collar. Jack gaped at it, his eyes bugging. Even from here, he could see the three pronged trident embossed onto its front. It was indeed, what he had been after. She laughed.

"Close your mouth, Jack, before you salivate on my carpets."

"You…you do know what that is, don't you?" he asked, staring at it.

"Of course I do. The map to the lost treasure of Poseidon himself!" she said, putting out her cigarette, her habitual sarcasm back in her voice. "If I weren't so bloody tired of sea gods, I'd probably find it ever so romantic."

"Does it…is it real?"

"How the hell should I know? We found it two months ago and I still can't get the damn thing open. How'd you know I had it, anyway?"

"I didn't. I just knew it was on this ship. If I'd known you had it, I wouldn't have bothered."

Elizabeth gave a small smile. "I'm flattered." She indicated the tray on the desk. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes, but I don't think I can eat like this," he said. Elizabeth looked at him.

"Like…oh, I forgot." She stepped toward Jack. "I rather like you this way, actually," she said, running a fingertip down his naked chest.

"I don't," said Jack, fighting the urge to shiver from her touch. It'd been over two years since that night, that one beautiful, terrible, heart-breaking night, and her fingers still held the same magic. "I can't help remembering what happened the last time you had me tied up."

The amusement in her eyes became more pronounced.

"Don't tell me you didn't enjoy it, because I know you did. Or have you forgotten and did you mean the first time I had you tied up?" she inquired.

"Both, now that I come to think of it," said Jack. "Although originally I meant the first time."

Elizabeth laughed, and produced a knife from somewhere about her person.

"Turn around."

Jack eyed the knife nervously.

"I'm just going to cut the rope, I swear. Or I could just leave you like this," she said, starting to back away.

Jack turned around. Elizabeth took hold of one of his wrists and sawed at the rope. A few moments later it parted, but she kept her hand on his wrist. One of her fingers traced the branded "P".

"I remember this," she whispered, half to herself, her voice suddenly small and lost. Her fingers left his wrist and he turned around to look at her face, to seek assurance of what he heard in her voice, but by then she had her back to him. He watched as she poured another glass of rum. Her hands were steady and her face, when she turned to him, was more Captain Swann than Elizabeth.

"So is this the normal treatment for thieves on your ship?" Jack asked, accepting a glass of rum. Elizabeth laughed, her hands busy rolling another cigarette. Jack watched her slim, deft fingers, mesmerized.

"Hardly. Most are killed on sight. Unless, of course, they happen to be a particularly striking specimen of humanity, and then they are brought to me and I deal with them as I see fit."

She lit her cigarette and sucked. Jack eyed the whip coiled on the table near the door nervously.

"As you see fit?"

Elizabeth blew out a cloud of smoke and smiled a wildcat's smile, lazy and feral. Jack swallowed. He'd wondered a bit about the odd, star shaped pattern of whip marks on the backs of some of the crew, and now he was left no doubt about from where they came.

"Why stars?" he asked.

"Because I like stars. Because swans are harder to fashion with whips. Because it leaves no doubt as to who they've committed crimes against. Because I can. Take your pick."

She waved a hand at the sofa. "Sit down, Jack."

He did so, and she handed him the tray. "Aren't you going to eat?" he asked. She shook her head.

"It's for you. I've already eaten."

He took the covers off the dishes. One bowl held rice. The other held…he poked at it with a chopstick. Something moved sinuously beneath the dark sauce. He picked it up. It slithered off the chopstick back into the bowl, but not before he caught a glimpse of suction cups.

"What is this?"

"Octopus in some sauce or other. It's surprisingly good, once one gets past the rubberyness."

Jack swallowed. "You know, I'm not that hungry after all."

He got up and placed the tray back on the desk. He leaned back on the wall and folded his arms, looking down on Elizabeth.

"So how's life been treating you, Lizzie-girl? I haven't seen you since…well, since."

Elizabeth laughed silently, a soft exhalation of breath.

"Yes, since. Life's been decent, since. How about you?"

Jack shrugged.

"Same as usual. Plunderin' my weasely black guts out. Well, we all have really, ever since the East India Trading Company fell apart, you included. I think we all know it's our last go-round. The world's changing whether we like it or not."

"Aye," said Elizabeth. Her fingers caressed the pendant, a dreamy smile on her face. "Can you imagine what a last go-round this would make?"

"That I can, lass." Jack moved over to her, reaching out toward the pendant. "May I?"

Elizabeth shrugged, her hand moving to unhook the chain. The pendant fell into Jack's palm.

"You know if you try anything now, you'll be dead before you see me move," she said, the smile never leaving her face. Jack looked at her, startled. What had this girl become? _A damn good pirate, that's what,_ he reminded himself. A better pirate than he was, at any rate, and he knew he was one of the best. He held the pendant up to the light. The trident was there all right, accented with emeralds and sapphires and pearls. He turned it over. The back was mother-of-pearl, words delicately incised into the shimmering surface. He tilted it, trying to make them out.

"What's it say?"

"Damned if I know. It changes every time I look at it, and Dai's seen it say something complete different when we were looking at it side by side. I swear to God, it's laughing at me."

"And you've no idea how to get it open?"

"None. Tried everything I could think of. Although," she continued, "what makes you think I'd tell you if I did know?"

Jack grinned and handed it back to her.

"I'd wish you good luck, but I haven't got any. Even if you can't get it open, it's worth a pretty penny in and of itself."

Elizabeth took it and hooked the chain back around her neck.

"So where's the Pearl, Jack?" she asked. He shrugged.

"Back in harbor by now, I should think. We doused our lamps and passed you last night, and I snuck on. The plan was for me to wait out the day in the hold, grab that," he said, nodding at the pendant, "commandeer a longboat, and row back to shore. Or swim, depending on how it worked out."

"That's a bit of a gamble," said Elizabeth. "What if we decided to make for the open sea?"

"The plan was contingent on you staying near the coast, yes, but where's the fun without a little risk? You've been hanging around for a while anyway. Waiting for something?"

Elizabeth nodded. "My first mate. She went and got herself pregnant again."

Jack blinked.

"Third time, too," Elizabeth continued. "You'd figure she'd get tired of it after a while. This island has the best midwife known to man, so a week before, we come here and drop her off. And then we wait, sailing round in circles usually. She ought to be back tomorrow, we've been here for nearly three weeks."

"Your first mate's a woman?" said Jack.

"Oh yes. Name's Midori. Best one I've ever had, too, minus the occasional interruptions, but I find they're worth it."

"Who's Dai then?" Jack asked, trying to wrap his head around Elizabeth's unorthodox choice of crew.

"Her husband," answered Elizabeth. "Lucky bastard," she added, reflectively.

"He's not with her?" Jack asked. Elizabeth eyed him over the top of her rum, amused.

"The first and only time he was with her she broke his hand. After that he decided it was best left to the midwife. Their other kids are with her, though. They seem to enjoy going ashore, if only for its rarity value."

Jack stared at her. At first he'd simply assumed the unswerving obedience and nigh awe-full respect of her sailors was due to her status and the rule of an iron fist—or leather whip, as the case may be—but Elizabeth spoke of the fixed members of her crew with genuine affection, perhaps even with love. Elizabeth's gaze dropped to her hands, and she smiled at some inner thought.

"Pregnant," she said, shaking her head. "What a silly state to be in."

"Because you'll certainly never be in that state," said Jack's mouth before his brain caught up with it. Elizabeth looked up at him, an eyebrow raised.

"Certainly. That state, along with the states of matrimony and young death, fall into the category of 'if it hasn't happened yet, it sure as hell won't happen now'. Although the lack of those states certainly isn't for lack of trying."

Now it was Jack's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Will and I were engaged, Jack," said Elizabeth. "I don't think anyone really expected us to wait."

Jack blinked a bit at the mention of Turner's name. Time was she'd cry if she heard it, and then have you pinned to a wall with a knife at your throat when you tried to comfort her.

"Ah, yes love, but that could've been the whelp's fault and none of yours at all."

"I highly doubt that. It wasn't the starting that was the problem, but the keeping," she said. Her voice was sardonic, but old shadows hung like funeral crepe in her eyes. She remembered the first time it happened, two weeks before the failed wedding, oh how well she remembered. It had hurt, but not near so much as the quickly stifled moment of reproach in Will's eyes, and the haunted look of failure she had seen in her own face every time she met a mirror. It was the beginning of the end, although neither of them knew it then. She met Jack's gaze, a wry smile confirming his inevitable conclusion.

"I never knew," he said, softly.

"No one did," she answered. Not even Will, not after the first time. She had hid it every time, hoping against hope she could carry it through. And she'd lost every one, even before they had started to show. She sighed, shook the memories from her mind.

"Ah well," she aloud, refilling her glass. "It's all in the past now."

"What, all of it?" asked Jack, another mouth-before-brain moment. Elizabeth looked at him askance.

"What do you mean, all of it?"

Jack considered his position for a moment, and then decided to run with it. What the hell, he might even get some answers.

"I just wondered if That One Night is included in the 'all of it'."

In the privacy of his mind, Jack swore. He really hadn't meant to pronounce the capitals, but after months of thinking it that way, they'd just slipped out. Elizabeth froze for a moment, and Jack watched her warily, wondering if perhaps he'd gone too far.

"Ah," she said, finally. "That One Night." Her inflection echoed his, but not without a touch of irony. She looked up at him, smiling a little. "What a night that was."

Jack speculated briefly how much of it she actually remembered, if she could smile at the memory.

"Because if it is," he continued, moving off the wall to stand a few feet in front of her, "I'd say we ought to settle our last debts and move on with ourselves, as according to the Code."

He didn't want to, and it hurt him to say it, because "settling your debts and moving on" meant breaking all ties and negating alliances, becoming nothing to each other but yet another pirate, yet another rival. At least, according to the Code.

Elizabeth sat in her chair, her cigarette dangling nonchalantly from her fingers and looked at him.

"We have debts, do we?"

Jack contrived to look hurt.

"I'd say you owe me a little something for breakin' my heart, love."

Elizabeth laughed, and stubbed out her cigarette. "You have no heart to break, Jack Sparrow."

_Oh if you only knew,_ thought Jack. He'd wept in the morning when he found her gone, knowing she was gone for good and there was no getting her back, but he'd be damned to all nine hells before he'd tell that to her.

"Anyway," continued Elizabeth, rising from her chair to stand before him, the amused gleam back in her eyes, "if I remember that night correctly, I'd say you owe me something." She moved closer to him, feline, predatory.

"Oh, I don't know about that, Lizzie-girl. It seems to my mind that was step in payment to a greater debt."

Her face closed off suddenly, the gleam gone from her eyes as if someone had blown out the lamp that lit them.

"You're alive, Jack," she said, hard and flat. "I'd say any debts I owe you were paid long ago."

"You misunderstand me, love. You see, this life," he said, spreading his arms to indicate the luxuriously appointed room, "this life you are so enjoying at the moment is at least, in part, my doing, since I am the one who introduced you to the delights of piracy in the first place."

He grinned at her as one who knows his logic is irreproachable. She snorted.

"So I am to thank you for ruining any chance of happiness I had in Port Royal?"

"Oh, c'mon love. We both know you'd never have been happy there."

"No," she agreed. "I wouldn't have, would I? And it seems I have found what little happiness I am entitled to here, or at least some occasional respite from my woes. So it transpires that I do owe you something, does it not?"

She took another step closer to him. He could feel her warmth from where he stood, the inner fire that had so astonished him That One Night. He swallowed, fighting to control his body and keep his blood in his brain.

"I wouldn't say you've found all the happiness you'll get from this ship alone. There's a whole wide world out there, Lizzie-girl, with plenty of people who'd be willing to share a little happiness with a girl like you."

"Oh really?" she asked. She stood mere inches away from him now, the rise and fall of her breathing perceptible by a light brush of cotton against his skin. Her nearness was intoxicating. She raised a hand to stroke his face, cup his jaw.

"And are you one of them, Captain Jack Sparrow?" He opened his mouth to answer, but she was too quick for him. Her hand moved like lightening to grasp his beard braids and pull his mouth to her own.

_In the past, my arse,_ thought Jack.


	3. Nepenthe

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Captain Jack Sparrow or Elizabeth Swann (Disney does). I only play with them from time to time.

**A/N: **Sex. And then some angst. And then some more sex. And some slightly less ansgty angst. Thanks are owed and given to **SoftStuff **again, this time for preventing me from using "ivory" to the point of annoyance (opaline is a wonderful word, by the way, thank you), and to the gracious **Erinya** for permission for Elizabeth's tattoo and new philosophy. The non-English bit is Latin this time, and if anyone feels the need to correct my grammer/spelling/wording please do, because I do not know much Latin and used an online translator. Oh, and:

Nepenthe: _n, _something that is pleasurable or soothing and brings a respite from sorrows and/or pain.

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Chapter Three: Nepenthe

She tasted like rum and smoke and the indefinable salty sweetness of herself, the contours of her mouth so familiar beneath his lips. Her touch swept him back to that night, that one godawful, brilliant night when she'd come to him crying by the light of the moon. After her worst day since the first, throwing knives and screaming that she didn't need their pity, she'd come to him, telling him he was the only one who understood her now, he was the only who she could bear to touch her and asking would he hold her now, because it was so dark and she felt so alone, and what kind of a man could say no to this beautiful wild-eyed broken-hearted girl? But she'd learned since then, his Lizzie-girl—

_Oh, how she'd learned,_ Jack thought, as her nails raked down his chest and her teeth captured his lip and she pushed him backwards towards her bed. She pushed him down onto it and straddled him, releasing his mouth and cupping his face with her hands. His own hands were at her collar, and there he stopped, remembering who she was, what she was.

"May I?" he asked, a supplicant before her altar.

"You'd better," was all she said, one hand unbuckling her baldric, the gleam of amusement present in her eyes, along with a roaring conflagration of lust. Jack's nimble fingers undid her buttons, revealing inch by precious inch of her ivory skin. He pressed a fervent kiss with every loosening of cloth. Elizabeth tilted her head back, enjoying the luxury of someone else's touch on her skin. Jack slipped the shirt off her shoulders and dropped it to the floor, his fingers skimming the softness beneath. He stopped.

"This is new…" he murmured. There, in the triangular hollow where collarbone met shoulder met the graceful upsweep of her left breast was a small tattoo. A stylized swan, wings outspread, flew upwards toward the now familiar six-pointed star. Arcing above and below the picture were the words "Ego vadum nunquam perdo meus via iterum / Pro meus domus est in pennae."

Jack traced it with a fingertip and looked questioningly at Elizabeth.

" 'I shall never lose my way again, for my home is on the wing'," she said, softly. Jack nodded, then bent his head and pressed his lips to the star, the swan and lower still to her breast. She gasped, arching against him. His arms circled around her lithe body as her nails dug into his shoulders. His mouth traveled up her body and sought hers in a fierce competition of lips and tongue. He fell back on the bed, pulling her with him. Her fingers fumbled with his belt and yanked his trousers off his hips. He trailed his hand down her torso to her waistband, skimming the top before plunging beneath. Elizabeth moaned breathlessly against his lips. He brought her shivering to the edge with his fingers before pulling back to divest her of her breeches and stockings. She made protesting noise as his hand withdrew.

"Shh, love," he admonished, working the tight cotton over her hips. "Wait for me, eh?"

She smiled at him then, a slow, wicked curving of promise enough to make angels fall. His entire body clenched in response, sheer desire flooding his veins.

"Oh, hell," he muttered. He grabbed the waistband of her breeches and pulled hard, dropping the annoying garment to the floor. And then she lay naked before him, in all her golden-opaline-candlelit glory, the heavy pendant shining between her breasts.

She held her arms up to him and cried out as he slipped inside of her. He started slow, but soon her nails scored his back as she set her own rhythm, inciting him to go ever faster. They went hard and fast and dirty now, the pirate life condensed into a few brief moments of primal hedonism.

Suddenly she screamed and bucked beneath him, her climax ripping through her body moments before his own. They arched together, seemingly suspended in time for a second that lasted an eternity, and then collapsed on the bed, panting, quivering and utterly spent.

-----------------

"So why did you leave?" Jack asked a while later, stroking her back. He lay on his side, propped on an arm to look at her. Elizabeth shifted as though uncomfortable in her own skin and rolled onto her back to study the ceiling.

"I…I was pregnant. I think I sort of knew all along, it's part of the reason I was so crazy for the first few days after Will…Well, we both know what happened there. I didn't realize it until that morning, though. Morning sickness, you know, and then it just all sort of came together in my mind. It was Will's obviously. I…I panicked. I'm not proud of that. It's just…I was terrified. Terrified of the prospect of carrying it through this time, even more terrified of losing the only piece of Will I had left. So I left. Scared my crew half to death, I think. We came here, actually, it's where I met Dai and Midori. They took care of me, through the short time when I managed to hold on, and the long, long time after I didn't. Stopped me from diving off cliffs and throwing myself into the sea. I owe them my life, many times over."

She stopped talking, still staring at the ceiling, naked pain evident in her unseeing eyes.

"Oh Lizzie," said Jack, softly. "I would've taken care of you. We all would've."

She looked at him and smiled the saddest smile he'd ever seen.

"I know. I never said what I did was reasonable. I just…I was so scared…"

Her voice caught and she stopped, her eyes bright with unshed tears. All trace of Captain Swann had vanished and all Jack saw before him was a young woman who had seen enough loss to break a lesser soul, the pain in her just as raw as it had been at the first. She closed her eyes and two tears spilled forth to glimmer down her cheeks, the candle flames turning them the same honey-gold as her eyes. And Jack did the only thing he could, take her in his arms and kiss her tears away until her salt-sweet mouth found his and she clung to him as only a woman can, all yielding softness and vulnerability.

He was tender this time, taking her as a lover would, a sweet union of two lost-and-found souls rather than the hard and fast meeting of flesh of before. And when they were finished, he gathered her to him and held her until they fell asleep.

He half-woke once in the night to see her at the desk, bending over something, her hair gleaming golden in the candlelight. Her lips moved silently, almost as if in prayer. He watched her for a moment, this broken-winged yet healing swan, beating at the bars of her cage, almost ready burst forth into flight again. He knew that he would have to let her go and it made him sad, yet he smiled at the thought of her soaring against the sunrise, free beyond the understanding of men. His eyes closed again, against the beauty and the pain, and he descended deep into Morpheus. 


	4. Valediction

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Captain Jack Sparrow or Elizabeth Swann (Disney does). I only play with them from time to time.

**A/N: **Sorry this took so long. It's not my best writing ever, and it's also un-beta'd, because I just wanted to get it up. This is probably the last official chapter, although there's definitely an epilogue. But I can't decide whether to make what comes next into a sequel, or add it to this. It'll probably end up being a sequel. Erm...I only have one note about the actual chapter this time, and that is the reason Elijah never does anything but smile and nod. It's because he's stone deaf, but Jack is too thick to notice. Anyway...

Valediction: _n_, an act of bidding farewell or taking leave

* * *

Chapter Four: Valediction

Jack woke the next morning to sunlight streaming through the window. He looked around. Elizabeth was nowhere in sight, but his clothes were neatly folded on the desk chair, and his effects evenly placed on the desk itself. His boots lay on the floor. Bemused, Jack got up and studied the tableau. It'd all been cleaned and laundered, too, save for his shirt which was nowhere to be found. He picked up the glaringly white thing left in its place and raised an eyebrow at it. It hung from his hands, smugly innocent. He got dressed and stepped outside, accompanied by the unfamiliar scent of fresh linen.

A child dashed past him, dodging sailors and laughing, followed by a very large cat and parrot screaming "Tag, you're it!" repeatedly. Another, smaller child sat on the shoulders of the scarred giant from the day before, eating an orange. A tiny Japanese woman holding an infant stood on the deck, alternately screaming orders at the crew and cooing at her newborn. An ancient black man grinned toothlessly at the proceedings, side-by-side with an even more ancient person of indeterminate race and sex who stood watching everything with sharp black eyes. Elizabeth, restored again to her pirate queen regalia, conferred with Dai at the helm. She caught sight of him and strolled toward him, smiling.

"Good morning," she said. She looked him up and down. "Don't you look nice." She reached out a proprietary hand to straighten his collar. He looked at her sourly.

"Out of curiosity, what happened to my shirt?"

"Oh, I don't know. They burnt it probably. The women of this island keep standards of cleanliness that would make an English housekeeper envious."

Jack stared at her.

"It wasn't worth the trouble of laundering," Elizabeth explained.

"That shirt had tremendous sentimental value, I'll have you know," said Jack. Elizabeth laughed.

"Only because you'd been wearing it for the past ten years straight."

One of the children dashed up to Elizabeth, still followed by the screeching parrot.

"Okâsan says we're ready to leave when you are," she said. Elizabeth ruffled her hair fondly.

"Thanks Kiku. Tell her I'll be there in a minute or two."

The child ran off again. Jack watched her go, and turned to look at Elizabeth as she surveyed the deck. There was a slight, proud lift to her head, an easy, unquestionable confidence to her stance and a small, satisfied smile played about her lips. She looked at Jack.

"What do you think, Jack Sparrow?" she asked.

"I think you've done well for yourself, Lizzie-girl," he answered. "All thanks to me, of course," he added. Elizabeth's smile widened.

"Yes, and all blame, too." She started across the deck, gesturing for Jack to follow her. When they reached the Japanese woman, Elizabeth stopped.

"Jack, this is Midori. Midori, this is Captain Jack Sparrow."

The tiny woman looked Jack up and down, clearly unimpressed, and said something to Elizabeth in Japanese. Elizabeth laughed, the first honest laugh Jack had heard from her since…well, ever actually.

"Yes, well, each to her own," she said. Midori grinned and turned to shout something at the scarred giant, who started guiltily and lowered the small child on his shoulders to the floor. Elizabeth turned toward the two aged individuals.

"This is Elijah," she said, giving a fond smile to the toothless old man, "and this is Mistress Hawkins. The midwife," she added, somewhat unnecessarily. Eyes that sharp, that knowing, could only belong to a witch-woman. They stared out at Jack from a mass of wrinkles. He had the uncomfortable feeling they saw straight through all of his pretensions and defenses, and straight to the dirty grey of his soul. He swallowed. The old woman gave him one last piercing look and turned her gaze on Elizabeth. Jack had the feeling he had narrowly escaped his final judgment. He watched the woman as she conversed with Elizabeth and Midori. After a moment, the woman climbed back over the side of the ship to the longboat and Elizabeth turned to him.

"Elijah has kindly agreed to row you back to shore with Mistress Hawkins," she said. The old man gave him a gummy grin and nodded. Jack swallowed at the thought of sharing a boat with those black eyes, but managed a nod and a word of thanks. Elizabeth watched him sideways, the gleam of amusement flashing in her eyes. Jack could hear Midori yelling at the crew from behind him as they clambered up and down the ladder, loading the longboat with packages and jars. The old man began to climb down into the longboat. And then, suddenly, it was time to say goodbye. Jack turned to Elizabeth.

"I hate goodbyes," he said, feeling awkward for the first time since his misspent youth. Elizabeth grinned.

"Me too."

"It was good to see you again, Lizzie," he said, surprising himself by actually meaning it. His occasional honesty would be the death of him someday.

"Yes, you too," she said. She sounded similarly surprised.

"Well…I suppose I'd better, uh…" He gestured towards the longboat. Elizabeth nodded.

"Yes, you probably should. Well…Goodbye Jack." She stuck out a hand. He raised an eyebrow.

"What, no last passionate embrace?" he asked. Elizabeth snorted. He grinned a bit and took her hand. He raised it to his lips and snuck a glance at her face. Her beautiful eyes held an expression somewhere between exasperation and wistfulness.

"Bye, Liz," he said. He dropped her hand and climbed down into the longboat. The old woman looked at him, snorted, and closed her eyes, settling into the prow. Elijah gave him another grin and shoved off from the ship with an oar.

"Jack!" Elizabeth called. Elijah kept rowing. Jack looked up at Elizabeth, standing there on the deck of her ship, surrounded by everything she loved, and by those who loved her.

"Catch!" She threw something to him as her ship's sails caught the wind and it started to move away. It flashed in the morning sun as it spun toward him. He caught it, and looked down. Pearls and trident prongs winked up at him. He looked back up at Elizabeth, astonishment written on his features.

"Elizabeth, wha—" he began, but she cut him off.

"Never say I don't pay my debts, Jack Sparrow," she yelled. She turned away from the railing, and then she was too far away to hear him anymore, even if he had anything to say.

Jack looked at the pendant in his hands, and back up at the ship receding into the distance.

"Amazing woman, that," he said to no one in particular. Elijah smiled and nodded. Jack glanced down at the pendant again, shaking his head, a half smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Truly amazing."


	5. Epilogue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Captain Jack Sparrow or Elizabeth Swann (Disney does). I only play with them from time to time.

**A/N: **Again with the un-beta'dness. And yes, there is most assuredly a sequel coming up sometime. I hope you enjoy my dorky little couplets. Poetry really isn't my forte, I'm a lyrical prose writer. And I sincerely hope I don't have to include a definition of the word epilogue.

* * *

Epilogue

There was a tiny little whirring noise of infinitesimal clockwork gears, the sound imperceptible to anyone who wasn't listening for it, and then a tinier click as the lid of the pendant popped open a fraction of centimeter. Jack pushed his chair back from his desk and let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, willing himself to remain calm. He flexed his cramped and aching fingers. Eight hours he'd been working on this thing, eight straight hours of bending over it with a magnifying glass and lamps, eight hours of commanding, asking, swearing, pleading with it to open in every language at his disposal. He'd even thrown it across the room once, although he hadn't really expected that to help. Eight bloody hours, and it was finally—_finally_—open.

Carefully, he took a pin and slipped it in the crack, levering it open. Inside lay a small, white piece of paper, folded to the size of piece of eight. With trembling hands, Jack removed the paper. Something beneath it caught his eye. Engraved into the inside of the locket was an inscription. Jack tilted the locket towards the light and the words sprang into visibility.

_Sail east of the moon and west of the sun  
And still of the treasure you seek you'll find none  
Sail to the very ends of the earth  
And all you'll find is the lost soul's berth  
Yet sail to the place where day and night meet  
And there you'll find where the King made his seat _

Jack studied the inscription for a moment. He looked at the paper with narrowed eyes, suspicion forming in his mind. On closer inspection, it looked too new and pristine to have been sitting in a locket for long. Much too new. The suspicion grew and, as he unfolded the paper, burst into bloom. Deep purple ink danced across the white surface in a firm, educated hand. It was a sketch of a map, clearly copied from a much older chart. Beneath it were four sets of latitudes and longitudes that formed a vague rectangle. At the very bottom of the paper were the words "Finders keepers." It was signed with a six pointed star and an ornate E.

Jack stared at it for a long moment, and then, slowly, a grin stole across his face. He threw back his head and laughed.

He looked at the paper again, still chuckling, and shook his head admiringly.

"Pirate."


End file.
